


five exercises in aggravation

by glass_icarus



Category: Junjou Romantica
Genre: Character of Color, Chromatic Character, Chromatic Source, Chromatic Source Creator, Gen, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:30:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glass_icarus/pseuds/glass_icarus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akihiko and Hiroki, a dysfunctional friendship retrospective. [PG]</p>
            </blockquote>





	five exercises in aggravation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penguin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penguin/gifts).



**five.**

"Hiroki!"

Hiroki would be inclined to ignore the pounding on the door of their apartment, except that it's Akihiko's voice. He pulls away reluctantly from Nowaki's kisses.

"Hiro-san," Nowaki says, arms closing around him in protest. "Please-"

"It's Akihiko," Hiroki mutters. "He won't go away. Or rather, he'll harass us for hours and possibly call the police if I don't answer."

"_Hiroki!_ KAMIJOU-SENSEI-"

Hiroki gets up and stomps to the door as Nowaki sighs, resigned. "WHAT?" he bellows irritably.

"Book delivery," Akihiko says with a cheerful smile. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Of course not, Usami-san," Nowaki says pleasantly, before Hiroki can protest. "Would you like to come in for a while and have some tea?"

"_Nowaki_-" Hiroki glares at him. Akihiko, of course, ignores the look completely.

"Ah- yes, thank you."

Hiroki growls and goes back inside, flopping down on the couch with ill grace. "What the hell are you talking about, anyway?" he grumbles. "I didn't ask _you_ for any books."

Akihiko, unfazed, pulls a chair from Hiroki's desk and sits. "I ran into Miyagi today, so he asked me to bring you the Matsuo Basho texts," he says, dropping a heavy parcel and a paper bag in Hiroki's lap. "Also, your mother sent me three boxes of Hakuto peaches along with these."

"What?! She never sends me peaches! Akihiko, you have to share!"

"I _did_ share," Akihiko says, nodding at the bag. "Six of them, see?"

"Six peaches out of _three boxes_?"

Akihiko shrugs. "Well, I gave the rest to Misaki."

Hiroki lurches forward, knocking the bag to the floor, but Nowaki prudently enters with the tea before he can actually strangle Akihiko, and he subsides into a grumpy silence. Akihiko accepts his teacup, polite and unperturbed.

"Usami-san," Nowaki ventures, glancing between the two of them, "you and Hiro-san were childhood friends?"

"Yes," says Akihiko.

"... more's the pity," Hiroki mumbles under his breath. Akihiko raises an eyebrow, irritated.

"Do you know he was practically illiterate before he met me?" he says. "I had to explain idioms to him and everything!"

"AKIHIKO-"

"Really?" Nowaki says doubtfully. "That doesn't sound like Hiro-san."

"Judging from his essays, illiterate is more in Takahashi Misaki's purview," Hiroki says. It's a low blow, but he watches with satisfaction anyway as Akihiko's eyes narrow.

"Misaki may be an idiot, but he's _my_ idiot. Don't talk about him that way."

"Misaki is also _my student_," Hiroki sniffs. "I think I'm entitled to judge him on the basis of his schoolwork."

"If one of your students is illiterate, doesn't that also say something about your ability as a teacher?"

"My ability as a teacher has nothing to do with it!"

"Well. Some people learn better when they aren't being used for target practice."

Hiroki growls, grabbing for the nearest stack of books as Nowaki ducks out of sheer force of habit. "OUT!" he snarls. "Out, out, OUT!"

Akihiko smirks, standing up gracefully. "Kusama-kun, it was good to see you. Hiroki, Miyagi's right, you know- if you keep frowning like that, your face is going to get stuck that way. Wrinkles!"

The book thuds against the door as it closes behind him.

**four.**

Hiroki kicks the door open, his face dark and his arms laden with grocery bags. On the sofa, Nowaki looks up, surprised. "Hiro-san?"

"We're drinking tonight," Hiroki says, proceeding to unpack his purchases: beer, beer, and beer.

"Hiro-san? What's the matter?"

"_Drink_," Hiroki repeats. "Unless you want me to finish all of these by myself?"

"... kanpai," Nowaki says, opening a can.

"That's more like it." Hiroki pops the top of his own can and drinks half of it in one gulp, scowling at the floor.

It's stupid. After all this time, he knows better than to hope for Akihiko for himself, but he'd thought that at least- he'd thought that- Hiroki drinks the other half of his beer and grabs a second can. _Stupid Akihiko._

"Did something happen with Usami-san?" Nowaki says cautiously.

"Yeah. _Jailbait_." Hiroki blinks. He must be more distracted than he realized, to say that aloud.

"What?"

Hiroki looks away, trying to avoid the question, but Nowaki leans forward intently and he knows he won't be able to dodge it. "You heard me. The great lord Usami Akihiko has diverted his affections toward a _high school student_." Hiroki scowls and takes another swig. "After fifteen years of pining after his precious Takahiro, he suddenly changes his mind in, what, six weeks?!"

"Takahiro?"

"An old friend who's getting married."

"But- a high school student?"

"Takahiro's little brother." Hiroki slams his fist onto the table. "Akihiko's been tutoring him for university entrance exams. Talk about ridiculous- the great novelist himself falls for a moron who barely passed high school Japanese!"

"Ah." Nowaki winces. "I'm- sorry to hear that."

Hiroki huffs and downs the rest of his beer. "Stupid Akihiko."

"Mm." Nowaki's voice is carefully neutral, but there's a faint tightness around his eyes that startles Hiroki from his thoughts.

"I- uh," he stammers awkwardly. "I mean, it just pisses me off, that's all. I don't have regrets, exactly- well, no, obviously I do, but- they don't have anything to do with you, all right? Wait, that doesn't sound right either, I just wanted to say, um-"

"Hiro-san." Nowaki tilts his face up, smiling. "Thank you."

Hiroki closes his eyes and lets the warmth- of the alcohol, of Nowaki- drive away his bitterness.

**three.**

"Akihiko-" Hiroki stops short. Even from this distance, he can see Takahiro laughing beside him. Akihiko's head is bent, his whole body turned toward Takahiro as if- as if Takahiro is the sun. Hiroki doesn't need to see Akihiko's face in order to know that his eyes are warm and open and vulnerable; doesn't need to see Takahiro's in order to know that his guileless smile is purely platonic, oblivious as it always has been.

Stupid Akihiko. The whole thing is so- so- ridiculously obvious. Akihiko's not exactly the type of person who goes around making grand, soppy declarations to the world, but his actions broadcast them loud and clear to anyone with a discerning eye. It's not even the fact that he spends ridiculous amounts of money on presents; Hiroki knows perfectly well that Akihiko has never been in love with him, and he's received his own share of luxury items over the years, even if they are mostly in the form of rare books. No, it's all in the little things: the way Akihiko looks for Takahiro first in every room; the way he's always anticipating needs and rushing to fill them before Takahiro can even ask, even if it's as trivial as opening a door or pulling out a chair; the way he listens, as he is now, with every ounce of his being.

_Just how myopic is Takahiro, anyway,_ Hiroki thinks bitterly, _not to notice that there's no one else in the room for him?_ He glares at Akihiko's latest notebook, the contents of which are astounding despite- or possibly because of- the desperate romanticism that leaks through sometimes, and stalks forward with a sigh.

"Oi, Akihiko! You left this behind."

"Ah-" Akihiko looks up, startled. "Thanks, Hiroki."

"Yeah, whatever," Hiroki grumbles, looking away with a flush. _Who's being obvious now?_

**two.**

Hiroki twirls his pen idly, having finished his latest homework assignment. He glances at Akihiko, writing placidly in his notebook. It's getting close to sunset, and the light reminds him of- of- Hiroki feels his face burn and looks quickly down at his school bag to hide it, Akihiko's offhand comment still ringing in his ears. _"It didn't look like anything I could say was going to get through to you, so that's a little charm to cheer you up. The boy next door in England taught it to me."_

"Akihiko?"

"Hm?" Akihiko scratches out a line absently.

"Your neighbor, in England, what was he like?"

"Tall, brown hair, blue eyes." Akihiko blinks at him, curious. "Why?"

"That's not what I meant," Hiroki protests. "And I'm _bored_. I've already finished my homework, and I have nothing to do, so _tell_ me already!"

"I met him a few days after we arrived. He was... nice to me. There was nobody my age in our neighborhood, so he was usually stuck with me, but he never complained about having to babysit."

"_Babysit_? How old were you, anyway?"

"Eight."

"Oh." Hiroki props his chin on his hands. "So? What did you do?"

"He took me places- to a museum, or a park, and he always found new books for me to read when we went to the library together. It was more fun than staying at home with no one else to talk to." Akihiko clicks his pen thoughtfully, adding another sentence. "We went to a movie once, but that wasn't so much fun. We walked into the wrong theater, so we ended up watching a horror film instead of a comedy. That was when he taught me the charm."

"That's a _kiss_, not a charm!"

Akihiko shrugs. "What's the difference? It worked at the time."

Hiroki sputters incredulously for a moment, speechless. _Who's this naive?_ "Hey, how old was he, anyway?"

"Hm? Oh, fourteen."

"WHAT?!" Hiroki squawks.

Akihiko stares at him blankly. "Is there something wrong with that?"

_... Clueless_, Hiroki thinks. _Utterly, completely clueless._

**one.**

"Thank you for letting me stay over," Akihiko says earnestly, bowing to Hiroki's mother. "Good night." His cheeks are pink from the bath, and although he's wearing Hiroki's spare pajamas, even Hiroki has to admit that he doesn't look ridiculous at all. It's... cute. Kind of.

Hiroki squirms uncomfortably and busies himself with his toothbrush. What the hell is with all these weird thoughts, anyway? Stupid Akihiko and his stupid- stupid- what's that word again? Hiroki frowns as Akihiko leaves the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

"Hiro-chan, Hiro-chan!" his mother says, interrupting his thoughts. "Take a picture with me and Akihiko-kun tomorrow, okay?"

"Huh?" Hiroki says through his mouthful of toothpaste.

"He's adorable!" his mother exclaims. "I think I saw little angel wings on his back!"

"How about you get your eyes checked tomorrow?" Hiroki says. His mother pinches his ear sharply; Hiroki winces and subsides. _Charisma_, that's the word he wants. Trust his mother, he thinks sourly, to fall for Akihiko's innocent charm.

... Charm? Are boys supposed to find other boys charming? Hiroki blushes furiously, and hurriedly spits in the sink to hide his face. _Stupid Akihiko!_

"Akihiko's a very good boy. Maybe a little too good," his mother says thoughtfully. "You be good friends with him, okay?"

"I will," Hiroki says. As if he wasn't already planning to do that! Weird or not, stupid charisma or not, Akihiko's the most interesting person he's ever met. Rolling his eyes, Hiroki heads for his room. Akihiko's finally brought another notebook, and he's been waiting for the next chapter of this story for a week now.


End file.
